The Fault In Our Stars
by Snowbeamer9
Summary: Often, our fate isn't up to us to decide. Scorpius is heir to a fallen household; Albus is crippled from the age of eleven; James finds love in a forbidden corner. Can they fight for their dreams and desires, or are they limited by the fault in their stars?


**A/N: Title from John Green's book, _The Fault In Our Stars._ Very interesting extract from Shakespeare's _Juliu__s Caesar_, if you're interested in looking it up. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter One: Venus Be With Us Tonight**

"Father, I … I'm in love."

The words had felt so heavy and awkward as they tumbled off his tongue, but Scorpius Malfoy was certain this was the right thing to do. At least, he had been, until he'd actually gone and said it.

Draco Malfoy's face slowly emerged from behind a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ as he lowered the newspaper. From the other side of the dining table, Astoria Malfoy froze with a forkful of egg halfway to her mouth. From their expressions, you'd have thought the eggs on their plates had hatched into chicks and begun to dance on the table. Declarations of love over the dining table at Malfoy Manor were, it seemed, not so well-received. Scorpius made a mental note to himself.

He could feel his face burning, the dumbfounded silence pressing on him like a roiling thundercloud, heralding an imminent storm. _Shouldn't've done it,_ a little voice in his head said. But Scorpius had no choice. His family kept the old tradition of parental approval on the subject matter of love, and if Scorpius wanted to do anything about the emotions he had harbored for well over two years, he had to overcome the obstacle of convincing his parents first.

"And who is this girl, my dear?" Astoria asked, gently setting down her cutlery with soft clinks. "Is her family well-off? Is she in your House?"

Scorpius took a deep breath, but it was really his father he was looking at. "It's that Weasley girl," he said reluctantly, with forced lightness in his tone. "Rose … that's her name."

Draco's face had taken on a very ugly look. "The offspring of Ronald Weasley and that … that Granger girl?" he asked, a cold edge to his voice.

Scorpius nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Absolutely not!" Draco snapped. His wife looked startled at his sudden explosion and rushed in with soothing tones.

"Draco, don't be like that. It's his first time."

"I won't have my son mixing with Muggle-lovers and Mudbloods—"

"_Draco!_ He's only fifteen—"

"I needn't remind you what I was doing when I was his age," Draco snarled. "Forming relationships with the Ministry, trying hard in school, thinking about my future … It's those kinds of things boys his age should be thinking about, Astoria."

"Yeah," Scorpius interjected, unable to keep the bitterness from his tone. "Like becoming apprentice to a Dark wizard and plotting my Headmaster's murder?"

The table had gone very quiet, and what little color Draco's face usually held had vanished. It was Astoria, however, who broke the silence. "Don't speak like that, Scorpius," she said sharply. "Those are things of the past, long forgotten."

"Are they, Mother?" Scorpius said quietly. He didn't have to tell them about how people at school avoided him like the plague, how parents seemed to hold their children's hands a little tighter whenever the Malfoys walked past, how heads turned to him in classrooms when his grandfather's name was brought up in association with the word _Death Eater_ … Three decades ago it might have been glorious to be the Malfoy heir, but Scorpius knew that his family name and honor had been decaying since the fall of the Dark Era. He was Scorpius Malfoy, heir to an almost penniless household, living reincarnation of a family of past servants to the Dark Lord. And he was hated for all that.

The mention of Draco's teenage years had shaken all the fury out of him. He now leaned forward, blonde hair neatly slicked back, his face an exact older version of Scorpius's down to their gray eyes and sharp chins. "Scorpius," Draco said slowly, in a very different tone. "Even if you did … hold certain affections for this – this girl …"

Scorpius waited as his father struggled through the sentence. Draco's next words, however, caught him cold.

"… what makes you think she'd accept you?"

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_BANG._

Scorpius awoke with the room before him dark and cold, images of his father's angry gray eyes swirling away in his mind. He straightened in his chair, suddenly very alert when he remembered where he was. The brass telescope was set to eye-level before him, in his last-ditch attempt to finish scouring the heavens for the planets he had calculated in his homework assignment. Obviously, Venus and Mercury were _not_ watching over him tonight, unless those two slightly larger stars next to the moon were actually planets.

Scorpius turned around, squinting his eyes as he scanned the balcony. Someone had entered through the doorway and slammed the door behind them. He found the person, standing at the very edge of the Astronomy Tower roof, just beyond a square of yellow light that fell from an open window. The figure was small and feminine.

"Sorry, didn't know anyone was here," the girl called, and Scorpius froze. That voice, sweet as the chime of silver bells, with an edge of playfulness and a dash of audacity, was one he would recognize anywhere.

A hundred words squeezed into his mind, stumbling over each other in his desperation to express them, but only two tumbled out of his mouth. "It's me."

"Scorpius?" Something in her tone changed, and he heard the clack of heels on pavement as the girl moved closer … and into the rectangle of light.

The very image of Rose Weasley before him immediately set off a chain of reactions. Instinctively, he felt his heart begin a drumroll in his chest and his stomach start the same old flip-flop that never got old. Scorpius felt as though he had swallowed a fistful of sand; his throat was suddenly very dry, his tongue stuck in his mouth. He stood up, the scraping of his chair sounding harsh to his ears, and swallowed. He pried his lips open. "Hi."

She blinked, and her face shifting to a guarded expression, wariness filtering through her large brown eyes. Her tone, too, was cold when she spoke again. "Hi."

It was the reaction he expected; yet Scorpius could not help but feel cold disappointment trickle through his chest. It was his fault – entirely his fault – that their friendship had fallen to such a level. Since the beginning of the year, with his father's words echoing in his mind, Scorpius had begun cutting Rose Weasley from his life.

It had been as easy as cutting off his right arm, in terms of both pain and resolve. Rose Weasley had been his best friend for four years, the one person who knew him through and through, and the one girl he couldn't live without. Or, so he had thought. It had taken every ounce of his self-constraint to stop laughing at her jokes and to stop trying to make _her_ laugh. He had adopted a cool, detached manner when it came to their interactions, and his mocking turned to real insults.

Thunder rumbled overhead, and a breeze scattered his parchments. Scorpius swore and ran a hand through his hair, and began picking the sheets of paper off from the floor. He was acutely aware of her standing by the edge of the balcony, watching him, as though she couldn't decide what to do.

A few drops of water splattered on his head, and then, as suddenly as though someone had turned on the sprinklers, the rain came. "Shit," he heard Rose say, and with a small sigh, she stepped forward. "Here, I'll help."

It was both the first and last thing he wanted her to do. Every drop of her kindness was a threat to the wall he had built up around himself … God dammit, every time he was even _close_ to her he could feel his resolve straining to stay in place. "No," he said quickly, raising his voice slightly to be heard above the patter of raindrops.

"Your homework will get soaked, you idiot."

Simultaneously, their hands shot out for the same piece of parchment. Her touch was like a bolt of lightning that coursed, fiery-hot, through his veins. Scorpius wrenched his hand away. _"I said hands off, Mudblood!"_

She froze, her hand on the wet parchment, ink staining her fingertips. "What did you call me?"

_I didn't mean it—I would never … _Scorpius opened his mouth, but Rose was quicker. In a flash, her hands had curled into fists and lodged themselves in his stomach; he found himself sprawling backwards onto the ground, the rain puddles soaking into his trousers. "Rose—"

"_What did you call me?"_ She was shouting now, leaning forward on her knees and aiming punches at whatever parts of him she could reach. "You – little – piece – of – filth! I can't believe we were ever friends, and to think … I thought there was more to us!"

Scorpius collected her punches with naught but a few groans of pain; he couldn't – he _wouldn't_ – raise his arms to shield himself or fight back … he deserved this, after all … but it was when her voice cracked and her weakening blows came with small sobs that he felt the most painful ache in his heart: she was hurting, and there was nothing he could do to make it stop.

He lashed out and his fingers found her wrist and locked themselves around it. He jerked her forward and they bumped together clumsily, but naturally, and suddenly she was in his arms and he was trying to gather her against him, all of her, every inch he could find … Her mouth was soft and salty and wet from the rain that ran down her cheeks mixed with tears. He drew her against him in a way that should have hurt, but oddly didn't, wishing they could be even closer than they were now, his fingers tangled in her fiery-red hair and her hands pressing into his shoulder blades, their legs scissored together and bodies entwined.

Their kisses, urgent and raw at first, slowly steadied until they broke apart. He thumbed away the tears on her lashes and her cheeks, marveling at how his hands were big enough to cup her entire face. She raised her eyes to his, and holding his gaze, leaned forward and pressed her lips against his again. He made a helpless sound in the back of his throat and his lips traced across the side of her face and to her ear so that they were leaning against each other, cheek to cheek. He wanted to stay like this, with her in his arms, forever … but forever was not his to keep, and there were words he had to say … things she _had_ to know …

"Rose," he said clumsily, his voice uneven by her ear. "I've wanted to do this for so long. But you must know that. Don't you?"

She drew back slightly, brown eyes staring at him from beneath strands of disheveled red hair. "No," she said slowly, "I didn't know, Scorpius. Why didn't you just tell me?"

Scorpius gave a small, bitter chortle. "I can't have you, Rosie. My father said—"

Once again, the words were out of his mouth when he wished he hadn't said them at all. At the mention of his father, he felt Rose stiffen against him. "You can't have me," she repeated slowly. The words, said aloud, rang so wrongly in his ears and he realized the mistake in his phrasing. Rose sharply pushed away from him, disentangling herself from him with forceful movements.

"That's not what I meant!" He scrambled to his feet after her. "Rose—"

She raised a hand. "No, I get it. It's cool. I'm only good for a cheap hookup. After all, a Malfoy can't associate with a Weasley, especially one whose mother is a _Mudblood._"

She turned; he grabbed her arm, his own voice rising. "Rose, _stop_. Look at me—"

She did look at him then, and her eyes were like whips as they flashed across his face. He flinched, and she tore her arm out of his grip. "That's the last time I want to see your face. You make me sick. Fuck off, Malfoy."

He stood alone on the Astronomy Tower roof long after she was gone, papers scattered around him and fluttering in the slight breeze. A piece of parchment flapped against his leg and flattened itself at his feet. Scorpius looked down at the illustration of the planet and associated deity. _Venus, Goddess of Love._

He buried his face in his hands, the cold light of the stars pouring down from the sky.

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**A/N: To be continued. Dramatic start, but it won't always be this angsty, I swear. Oh, & the other Next Gens will be making appearances very soon.**

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